Oasis (English ver)
by Alandria
Summary: -ZX Advent- Atlas found something that Model F would never expect to see again: an entrance to the Cyberspace, that gives him an humanoid form once again. They train together; they fight with nothing to stop them, among ego battles, some with unexpected consequences. M to be safe. Translated from Portuguese.


Author's notes: Fanfic written, left incomplete in some folder for ages, and finally finished (finished... well...) one year ago. Translated from Portuguese. Yeah, the plot is kinda random and the translation probably has some mistakes, but I wanted to see how some situations would develop. And here it is, heh. Spoilers? Some character background info, but the events could happen even before MMZXA. Oh, and classic disclaimer... Capcom characters, not mine. Writing just for the fun of being a crazy fangirl into a fandom with too little shipping.

~~ When going to the desert like she always did, Atlas found something that Model F would never expect to see after all those years: an entrance to the Cyberspace. The strange place gives "Fefnir" an humanoid form once again, and what seems like a good opportunity arrives. They train together; they fight with nothing to stop them, among ego battles, some with unexpected consequences. ~~

* * *

Oasis - by Alandria

The desert sands burned like Hell, but Atlas still liked the place. The desert made her feel, like no other place, the power emanated from that land where humankind kept surviving, war after war, hardship after hardship, always rising stronger. The desert, to her, was a symbol of that fight, a symbol of what humankind could still achieve.

The desert also reminded her of fire. Since she had taken Biometal Model F's power for herself, she could feel that the power of fire fitted her like a glove. Aggressive, belligerent, but also renovative. Model F also inspired her an unexpected affinity, always eager for the next battle. There was no need for explanations or negotiations; she would have all the power she wanted while she could keep him entertained. And the Game of Destiny, which could bring her so desired evolution through war, would have plenty of "entertainment".

One time, among oil refineries and rock formations that, occasionaly, seemed to "sprout" from the sand, Atlas saw something very unusual. It looked like a hologram, but her instincts said that it shouldn't be ignored. The mystery came to an end with Model F's words:

"It's an entrance to the Cyberspace! I dunno why the hell this still exists. But it can be very useful. Enter it and see."

Atlas obeyed. Model F would gain nothing by tricking her, because now she was like his arms and legs. For reaching their objectives, they needed each other. So she passed through the door.

The environment inside what Model F had called "Cyberspace" was intriguing and, at the same time, felt monotone in its green silence. Atlas felt the weight of the desert leave her shoulders completely. It was... too comfortable. What was so "useful" about it, after all?

It was when she heard steps getting near, and quickly assumed a defensive stance. In front of her was a strong-built young man with tanned skin and brown hair. At first, she couldn't tell if he was human or reploid, even if that, since Atlas was born, was almost irrelevant to the world, given the equivalence achieved between organic and mechanical bodies. Most important now was finding out if the stranger was a menace. She tried to reach for Model F, but couldn't find him. It was only after that man spoke his first words that things started to make sense:

"Heh. I told you this would be very useful. No idea how it works, but from what I remember, Cyberspace is capable of awakening our full potential. Look, it seems I can be myself again here! Well, almost. I was not exactly like this one hundred and some years ago."

It was impossible not to recognize the timbre of his voice and that mocking tone of his, trying to sound superior just for fun. Someway, in that bizarre place, Model F had gained a body. Atlas couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing, though. Now he could fight...

And, indeed, he didn't think twice before charging against her. Punches and kicks of dangerous strenght that she promptly defended and returned. No blow, from either side, fully connected, though. The man quickly retreated some meters from her and stopped. Atlas stood ready, but observed carefully what he would do next.

"Are you trying to knock me down?", Atlas asked, still ready to defend herself.

"This is like some sort of alternate reality. Outside here, I'm still a Biometal. But inside, while I can still keep this form... you can call me Fefnir. It's my real name." He sounded oddly serious, and Atlas undestood, somehow, that it was really important. "We can use this place for training. Nobody can bother us here, and I have a body like yours now."

"In the past, you were just an old robot", she provoked him, remembering the very few information she had about his past.

"In the past, I was an armored, immortal reploid that could kick your butt all the way to the Capital."

Atlas observed Model F... Fefnir, again. His clothes had great similarities, regarding colors and patterns, with her own when Megamerged. However, like he had said himself, his body now was that of an ordinary man, equivalent to hers. She could easily see him as her counterpart.

And then, in more than one occasion, Atlas would go back to the door that leaded to the unstable Cyberspace, in the middle of the desert. Its very existence nowadays was a mystery, so they would take advantage of it while they still could. And even if the fights were not the real deal, the simple fact of being able to fight without a care in the world was, to both Atlas and Fefnir, a huge satisfaction.

* * *

When she fell on the ground, she could feel the heat of the battle still strong. Gasping for air, he just watched when Atlas writhed, still down, taking her right hand to her left shoulder. The severity of the situation was only evident when she tossed her proud facade aside, screaming in pain.

"Hey, are you ok?", Fefnir asked, even the answer being obvious. He came closer, step by step. She wasn't any damsel in distress, but leaving his partner down there wouldn't bring any advantages. Crouching next to the fallen woman, he insisted: "What's the matter with your shoulder?"

"Mind your own business, idiot", she pushed him aside, harsh, her teeth gritted. The pain made her groan.

Trying again was useless, so he simply laid her body flat on the floor, without even asking for permission. He pulled her hand from her shoulder firmly, ignoring when she protested in return. He analised what his eyes could see. Her protective undersuit, ruined. Some superficial bruises, but almost no blood.

"Take your hands off me!", Atlas roared at him, holding him by the same wrist that previously took away her arm. The new effort put into tossing his arm away, however, triggered a new wave of pain that she tried to supress between her teeth, in vain. "I can handle this, I'm not some weak little brat!"

"DON'T GIVE ME THIS STUBBORN CRAP, STUPID!". His voice was strong, commanding even. "This has nothing to do with weakness! Wanna die in combat, then DIE! But do it at your best, falling over the pile of enemies you just defeated. Refusing help and staying here rolling on the floor because of a shitty training session will prove what, and to who? Take care, get up and fight again!". And, regaining his breath, he completed, in a somewhat lower tone: "Fight with all you've got, this stupid pride makes you ridiculous".

Atlas averted her gaze. She felt humiliated, but he was right. It was useless to be out of combat. Accepting help would only make things faster, after all. And he wasn't even her enemy.

In an instant, she gave in, also motivated by the pain, and let her body relax on the floor.

"I think it's dislocated", she risked, between deep, unstable breaths. "It has happened before. I need to put it back into place, or the nanomachines won't reconstruct it properly."

Without any ceremony - it was for situations like this that a warrior's "strenght" was for, after all -, Fefnir stared at Atlas' hurt shoulder and took the area with both hands. She recognized the gesture. In a few seconds, an uncomfortable noise, and another roar of pain echoed all over the Cyberspace.

* * *

Some time later, still trying to resist the pain, but controlled enough already, Atlas remained sitted, legs crossed, head low, without saying a word while Fefnir, also in silence, treated the rest of her wounds and immobilized her shoulder, accelerating her recovery. His hands were never gentle, but Atlas never felt offended by rudeness. That battle atmosphere was totally extinguished.

At some point, the silence was broken:

"You're lucky to have bionic parts in your joints", he commented, completely ignoring her attitude. "If you were all organic, it would take a lot more to heal. It'd hurt a lot more, too."

More silence.

"Are you doing this to humiliate me? I shoudn't be accepting help like this."

"Tch, are you trying to start this again?", Fefnir complained, irritated. But it took some time for him to find words that could explain why in the hell was he doing that. "You want to evolve through war, and I agree with that. I like fighting. But I'm no maverick. Actually, in the past, I was built to defend humans."

"If I'm so weak that you want to defend me, why don't you finish me off already?"

"This really has nothing to do with being weak or not, I protected them all". If he wasn't sounding so irritated, maybe she could spot a hint of nostalgia. "There are people worth to protect, defenseless or not."

She said nothing. Her first reaction would be disagreeing with someone who prevent weak people from perishing, but no word left her mouth while she was paying attention to him and the heavy hands treating her.

"Did you ever want to protect someone with your own life?", Fefnir asked.

"Never."

"So that's why you don't understand. 'To protect' can be a great reason for someone to go to war."

When the wound finally received proper care, Atlas walked towards the Cyberspace gate, without even paying attention to Fefnir. Her thoughts were far away, in her ideal world, where war never ends. And in her thoughts, she saw a young female human soldier, in front of the Headquarters, hugging her lover as a farewell, her baby in the arms of a reploid nurse who waved at her. The young woman got on the huge gun vehicle and waved back, smiling.

Even facing the horrors of war, humankind would be able to give a chance to every second of happiness.

When Atlas found herself out of the Cyberspace, her only companion was Model F. Her shoulder still hurted. And, for some reason, she felt cold.

* * *

He immobilized her tightly. His right arm was over her shoulders, close to her neck. His left hand was restraining her arm behind her back. Atlas tensed her body, but barely struggled: she knew it was useless. It was known to her that, even with a body that, according to the new laws, was equivalent to that of a human, Fefnir still had admirable technique and physical strenght. For someone who always took pride on exploding first and asking later, he had some very precise movements.

"Seems like I won again", he said, more taunting than anything.

When he noticed that she wouldn't move away, he released her left arm and slowly reduced the pressure over her neck, but still keeping that arm around her shoulders. Their breathing was still a little heavy. Atlas reviewed the last seconds of their fight mentally - what did she do wrong? Her fists clenched against her sides.

Suddenly, her thinking was taken to a halt by something that she would never expect: Fefnir, in a quick move, had pulled away the collar of her undersuit, and now his lips were lingering on her neck, still hot from the fight. Atlas felt her body tense again.

"What... do you THINK... you're doing?", she said, in a menacing tone. The sudden contact with his body had made her voice lose some of its intensity, though.

"I'm claiming my prize", he said shortly, lips returning to warm, tanned skin just after. Atlas' left arm had been restrained again, now against her waist, while Fefnir's left hand, wide open and ruthless, climbed her stomach dangerously.

A grunt was all that escaped her lips before she reunited her strenght and took advantage of a moment of distraction from the warrior behind her to toss him against the nearest wall, where he stood, dizzy due to the impact. Atlas felt furious and challenged, but couldn't feel repulse. She managed to keep herself serious, but got closer to him that would be considered safe, saying:

"You won? Think again."

"Maybe you want the prize, then."

And he dominated her once more, greedily capturing her lips with his own. One hand on her back and other on the back of her neck pressed both bodies together, with Fefnir still positioned between her and the hard wall. Atlas, unable to stop her body from reacting, dug her short, gloved nails on his waist. Inside her head, she debated between putting a stop to that boldness of his, or swallow her pride a little more... just a little... a little more, now that his tongue was forcing its way over every part of her mouth...

NO! Who did he think he was? Who did SHE think she was, surrendering for just that? She pushed him away and against the wall with the same hands that moments ago held tight on him, part of her so reluctant about doing it. She couldn't face him but, without knowing exactly what to expect from that moment on, just gave him her back.

The same back she had learned to never give to an enemy.

That had left her completely unstable. Over the years, the harsh, militarized environment of the war had educated her to almost forget that she was a woman. Almost.

And now, she wanted to remember once again. And Fefnir seemed determined to make her remember, even if he needed to play dirty.

She couldn't say that it wasn't working.

He approached her from behind again, without a word. His actions would talk for him, he decided, while searching for the hidden zipper that mantained her suit tight against her skin. A sensation of urgency overcame him when he undressed her to shoulder level. Her jacket, promptly opened, was no obstacle, falling freely from her arms. He took his lips to her neck again, without any intention of being gentle. Each kiss only served to ignite even more the heat that had overcame them. Now it was his left hand, arrogant, possessive, that held Atlas' body against his by wrapping her, circling her well-toned waist, while his right hand was busy already, exploring all her abdomen through the thin fabric of the undersuit, than up her stomach, then to her right breast. Her moans were muffled, repressed, like she couldn't surrender yet. That pride of hers usually got him irritated, but now it was driving him crazy. Despite Atlas' useless efforts to don't let it show, Fefnir could feel each response of her body to his touch. And he was absolutely sure that she could perfectly feel HIS body reacting as well. The hand which was holding her by the waist forced her even closer to him, and she tried, in vain, to control her own reaction. Their bodies were already moving in the same sinuous rhythm, and he groaned in her ear, satisfied, while taking the most advantage of every spot of exposed skin that his mouth could reach.

When Fefnir intended to turn her to face him, Atlas' hesitation was already clouded by her instincs. But not her reflexes. She took the initiative and tossed him on the floor. After an intense kiss, she stared at him with false disdain, still over him, the upper part of her suit about to fall and reveal so much more, feeling the control of the situation for the first time.

"To get what you want, you must prove that you're worth it."

"Alls fair in love and war."

Taken by burning passion, none of them saw special meaning in Fefnir's last sentence, the last coherent sentence before all reason came down.

* * *

Hours later, Atlas woke up, still feeling disoriented. She was, for some reason, dressed, but her clothes were a total chaos. Flat on the floor, she noticed that Fefnir was somewhere around there as well, but her mind felt blank, and she did no effort in searching for him. However, while she was looking at the greeny, silent sky of the Cyberspace, Fefnir, also lying down in a position slightly opposed from hers, covered her hand with his own, and reality came back, hard as a rock.

"This shall not happen again", she said, worried about the consequences of a deeper relationship between them. "But I have no regrets."

"To be true, I don't even know for how much time we're still gonna have a Cyberspace. It could be our last time here."

"But if this Cyberspace lasts longer... when I take the role of Mega Man King... I could use a queen", she said with a light, playful smile.

"Don't give me that" was the only answer he was able to come up with. Thinking about that, it was the first time that Fefnir had seen Atlas smile like that.


End file.
